


Instincts

by dragonspell



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dragon Ball Z Abridged - Freeform, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:45:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: “Princess Trunks...”  Trunks’s stomach turned with the sickeningly sweet tone coating Broly’s rough growl.He turned and pointed as if sheer force of will would keep Broly where he was.  “No!” Trunks yelled.  “No!  You stay right there!”Broly grinned and took a deliberate step towards Trunks.  Trunks mirrored the motion in reverse, taking a step back.  Broly moved again and so did Trunks, continuing a slow, stupid dance until Trunks’s back was against a wall.  Broly’s grin widened and Trunks’s balls tried to climb up into his throat.Or the Broly x Trunks scene that never happened in Dragon Ball Z Abridged (this uses their DBZ Abridged personalities).  Warning for rape and not dealing with the consequences of that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Entropyrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/gifts).



> For entropyrose. Because this is all your fault.

Everything hurt. A painful throb radiated from his shoulder blades where they had first made impact with the metal beam before being forced into the stonework. Trunks groaned and tried to move, then thought better of it when he realized that his limbs were refusing to work the way that they should. His arms only lifted a few inches before the pain doubled.

The monster was still out there. Trunks could hear him taunting Goku, hear his boasts about his power. They never should have come to this planet. 

Damn his father. Vegeta’s ego had screwed them over. Trunks didn’t know if they were going to be able to win this one. Broly was too strong—stronger than all of them, stronger than even the androids. Just how had he gotten so powerful?

“Princess Trunks,” Broly crooned and Trunks’s whole body shivered in fear, sending painful twinges coursing through him.

“No...” Trunks moaned. His eyes fluttered open but he saw nothing, momentarily blinded by the pain. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to be able to see to know that Broly was approaching. Trunks could feel him, feel the Saiyan’s immense power level steadily advancing toward him.

Trunks tried to move again, pushing past the pain. He had to get out of here before Broly caught him. He struggled, planting his fists against the broken rock to try and force himself upward, but it was useless. He was stuck. Helpless. Waiting for Broly to come finish him off.

“I didn’t forget about you,” Broly growled in Trunks’s ear. Trunk gasped and tried to jerk away but Broly’s hands were all over him anyway, eliciting more pain everywhere they touched.

“Please forget about me,” Trunks muttered. He deeply wanted Broly to forget that he even existed.

“My wife.” Broly sounded entirely too pleased to say that. He flattened himself to Trunks, another violation as he rubbed himself against Trunks’s beaten body. Trunks could feel a bulge in Broly’s pants that he really didn’t want to think about.

“Oh Kami,” Trunks swore and struggled against Broly’s hold as he started cursing out his father all over again. The only reason that Broly had it in his head that Trunks belong to him in the first place was because of Vegeta. If only his father weren’t such a damn PRICK, Trunks wouldn’t even be in this mess.

Honestly, Trunks would have rather Goku been his father. Goku was a terrible dad, but that was mostly because of how he would spend years off training and had a general level of dumbassery that somehow still made the man loveable. As far as Trunks could tell, Goku wouldn’t ever off-handedly give away his kid to some monster.

Oh, wait, shit, Piccolo. Trunks took it back.

Trunks wished that Piccolo had been his dad. Piccolo was a good dad.

Helpless as he was, prone on the ground, all Trunks could do was wait for the end to come. Every attempt he made to try and fend Broly off was rebuffed as easily as a kitten’s. He was at Broly’s mercy and Trunks had already seen how nonexistent that was. Trunks gathered up what remained of his ki to try and fend off the final attack but one punch from Broly would surely break through all of his defenses and pound him into the center of the doomed planet.

The moment drew out into agonizing minutes, each second that passed making Trunks’s fear ramp up higher. Just what the hell was Broly waiting for? His eyes managed to refocus and Trunks stared up into the greenish yellow of Broly’s hair. Confused and terrified, he turned his head slightly to the side as Broly pushed his face into Trunks’s hair.

“Your hair still smells like strawberries.”

Fuck. That probably wasn’t good.

Trunks writhed underneath Broly, trying to throw the larger man off as Broly laughed. Trunks’s face burned. Broly thought that he was pathetic and the part of Trunks that was wholly Vegeta couldn’t stand it. He slammed his knee against Broly’s side, more out of frustration than any thought that it might work.

Broly shifted on top of him, rolling upward, and Trunks used the opportunity to get his knees in between them. He twisted and gained just enough leverage to push Broly off of him, the rock beneath him cracking with the ki he expended. Broly landed a few feet away as Trunks painfully rolled himself to his feet.

Broly tilted his head. “Good,” he purred. “You’ll bear strong children.”

And Trunks was officially done with all of this. “I’m a guy, you dumb asshole! I can’t get pregnant!”

“Ha!” Vegeta yelled, pausing in the middle of his little crisis to throw some derision Trunks’s way. “Shows what you know!”

Trunks whipped around to face where his father is. “What?” he shouted back. Trunks couldn’t, right? Men didn’t get pregnant.

Human men didn’t.

Oh, Kami. Please tell him that this wasn’t another fucked-up Saiyan thing. The tail, the turning into a gigantic furry ape under the full moon, the totally unnecessary and insatiable craving for red meat every month and the bloodier the better…

Fuck. This was another fucked-up Saiyan thing, wasn’t it?

“Princess Trunks...” Trunks’s stomach turned with the sickeningly sweet tone coating Broly’s rough growl.

He turned and pointed as if sheer force of will would keep Broly where he was. “No!” Trunks yelled. “No! You stay right there!”

Broly grinned and took a deliberate step towards Trunks. Trunks mirrored the motion in reverse, taking a step back. Broly moved again and so did Trunks, continuing a slow, stupid dance until Trunks’s back was against a wall. Broly’s grin widened and Trunks’s balls tried to climb up into his throat.

With a single leap, Broly was back on top of Trunks, pushing him into the wall and holding him there. Trunks aimed a punch at Broly’s head but it was off-center and weak and Broly took the hit with a laugh. Trunks had a moment to think about how fucking screwed he was before Broly returned the punch, embedding Trunks into the wall.

The pain was nearly overwhelming. His vision flickered again, turning double before rectifying, and Trunks woozily shook his head. A thousand needles tried to pierce into his brain and Trunks groaned.

“Bad boy,” Broly said and Trunks found himself lifted out of the new hole in the wall, Broly’s fists wrapped around his tank top. Broly’s mouth descended upon Trunks’s with nearly the same force he had used to put Trunks into the wall, energy crackling against Trunks’s skin. Trunks struggled weakly, trying to push away the new pain, but Broly held him in place.

A tongue forced its way into Trunks’s mouth, licking along his teeth and with it came a reluctant bit of pleasure. Trunks jerked his head to the side, breaking the kiss. Gasping, he stared off into the distance. No. No, he was not getting off on this.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Surely, his body was in too much pain to even think about it, right? And Broly was an insanely powerful monster who was most likely going to kill him and everyone he knew.

Oh, fuck him, Trunks thought. Fuck him hard. Something inside of him was throbbing hotly at the idea of Broly being so powerful, liking how Broly had beaten him so thoroughly. This was yet another fucked-up Saiyan thing, wasn’t it?

Kami damn it.

Trunks ruthlessly repressed his thrice-damned Saiyan instincts, shoving them down into a deep corner of his mind. They had proven that they couldn’t be trusted and Trunks desperately needed to focus here. It was the only way he was going to make it out of this.

Unfortunately, all of the blood seemed to be rushing to his head—doubly so because Broly chose that moment to flip Trunks upside down. Trunks squawked as he came face to Broly’s legs, Broly’s thick hands wrapped around his thighs and holding them spread.

...This didn’t bode well.

Trunks braced himself against Broly’s knees and tried to push himself upright again, but Broly held him in place. With only a few quick movements, Trunks’s pants were shredded, the scraps falling down around him. Trunks watched the pieces of fabric flutter to the ground, then twisted his upper body around to look up at Broly.

“Mmm,” Broly purred and buried his face between Trunks’s legs.

Trunks squeaked.

Broly’s mouth moved against his underwear, sucking in some of the fabric to wet it, as his nose pushed between the cheeks of Trunks’s ass.

“No!” Trunks shouted. “No, no, no, stop!”

Broly ignored him and, after gathering a large chunk of Trunks’s underwear between his teeth, he pulled, ripping them as easily as he had Trunks’s pants. 

A bolt of fear shot through Trunks. His clothes had offered little protection, but at least they had been something between him and the overly large Saiyan. Now, he had nothing. There was nothing to stop Broly from doing what he wanted. He licked into the crack of Trunk’s ass, his tongue finding Trunks’s virgin hole and pushing inside, resistance be damned.

Trunks gasped. Fear still made him tremble, but there was pleasure in there as well. He couldn’t help it. Broly felt so good inside of him. The touch of his tongue was slick and almost gentle despite the force it had used to breech him. Trunks wiggled in Broly’s grasp, but it was less about getting free and more about riding the wave of pleasure surging through his body. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered. He pushed himself upward again to get himself even closer to Broly’s face.

It was, hands down, the best damn thing that Trunks had ever felt in his life. Nothing he had ever done could compare. He had never been with another person (who had the damn time, really?) and the furtive handjobs he had given himself paled in comparison.

There was still the fact that this was Broly doing this to him, bringing him such pleasure, but it seemed like a distant afterthought.

Broly’s tongue kept moving inside of him, writhing against the stretched muscle of his ass. There was little Trunks could do to stop it, but little he wanted to do besides get it in deeper. He spread his legs wider and Broly let him. “Oh...” Broly started up a purr that Trunks echoed.

It was over far too soon for Trunks’s liking, but, then again, anything short of an eternity would have been too soon. Broly finished with a self-satisfied rumbled as he withdrew his tongue. Trunks rolled his hips, still wanting more, but all he got was the cold rock beneath him as Broly set him down. Trunks slumped bonelessly against the stones, feeling wrung out. He barely noticed as Broly’s large hands gripped his hips and pulled them upward, simply shifted accommodatingly.

“Broly will make you his now,” Broly rumbled and put Trunks where he wanted him. The words dug into the haze of pleasure coating Trunks’s better sense, stabbing into his self-preservation instincts.

“What?” he asked groggily. Something about his position on his knees with Broly behind him was ringing an alarm bell in his head, but it was muted, still lost in the fog.

“Breed you,” Broly growled and, okay, that came through loud and clear. Trunks shot upright only to be forced right back down. The haziness and lingering pleasure gone, Trunks became aware of the precariousness of his position, how vulnerable he was. Bent over on his knees, Broly’s large hand pressing along his back, the other holding Trunks’s hips in place, as something rather large brushed against Trunks’s thigh. 

If Trunks hadn’t been able to clearly count Broly’s hands and account for their whereabouts, he would have thought that it was an arm, but no. Neither of Broly’s arms were anywhere close to his inner thigh. Trunks whimpered. Nobody needed to be that big. This was crazy. Who the hell ever needed to be that big?

And Broly was going to—?

“No!” Trunks shouted as the tree trunk against his thigh moved upward to rest behind his balls. Panicked, he thrashed against the ground, fingers clawing at the rock that cracked and shattered beneath his strength, but it was useless against Broly’s superior strength. Trunks was helpless, able to do nothing but simply accept what Broly gave him.

Broly growled as he slowly pushed in, his large girth stretching Trunks wide. Trunks screamed as Broly pushed him beyond his limits. Broly’s cock was as huge as the rest of him. Leaning over Trunks, Broly maneuvered Trunks much smaller body as he liked, jerking Trunks backward and seating himself fully inside of Trunks. Trunks sobbed, pain overwhelming any pleasure that might have been had.

“Mine.” Broly pressed forward to push as deep as he possibly could and Trunks’s hands scrambled uselessly at the ground, trying to get him away from the pain radiating up his spine. Trunks could swear that he felt Broly in his guts, thought that he might see the outline of Broly’s cock jutting out of his stomach if he dared to look. Tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.

Kami, it hurt. Nothing that large was ever meant to go inside him—go inside anyone.

Broly’s hands slid back to Trunk’s ass, spreading him as Broly repeated, “Mine.”

“Get out of me,” Trunks hissed. Broly rocked against him, forcing Trunks forward before dragging him back. Trunks whimpered.

“Get used to it.” Broly pulled back and thrust in again, brutal simply for his size rather than any particular force. Trunks twisted with the pain, feeling it surge through him—and again when Broly repeated the motion.

“Please,” Trunks begged, his pride breaking. He couldn’t take this. Broly was going to rip him in half. He would rather be beaten, incinerated, anything other than this. Give him a clean death. “Please!”

Broly rutted against Trunks, moving inside of him regardless of how Trunks pleaded, indifferent to the pain that he was causing. Trunks punched the ground, cratering the rock, and Broly’s big hand stroked over his back. “Relax,” he said, as if it were simply that easy.

“You fucking relax!” Trunks snapped, his voice breaking into a sob when Broly thrust into him again. “Fuck!”

“Anger,” Broly purred. “I like it.”

As if Trunks gave a fuck about what the monster liked. He slammed his fist into the stone beneath him again and again, each time forcing the crater bigger.

In the distance, Trunks could hear his father, could hear Paragus, could hear Piccolo. None seemed inclined to stop this, letting Broly do as he pleased with Trunks’s body. 

“My wife.”

“Shut up!” Anger wrapped around Trunks like a blanket, bundling him up until he felt the rage like a living thing writhing inside of him. He exploded in a burst of ki, ascending into Super Saiyan. Energy crackled around him, through him. The pain of his injuries faded, driving back by the sheer raw power.

Trunks turned and lashed out, aiming a foot at Broly’s stomach. Broly’s insanely large cock twisted inside of him, sparking sensations up his spine, but Trunks pushed the feelings to the background, attempting to focus the whole of himself on the battle in front of him.

Broly effortlessly caught his foot and tossed it to the side, flipping Trunks over onto his back as easily as a doll. Trunks gasped in surprise, then aimed a fist at Broly’s face. Broly knocked his arm away and dove down to cover Trunks’s body with his own. His lips descended upon Trunks’s neck, assaulting the tender skin there. Trunks drove an elbow into Broly’s shoulder, again and again, with no results. Broly simply ignored him, lifting up Trunks’s hips instead.

A spark of pleasure rocketed through Trunks as Broly’s overly large cock rammed into something inside of him and Trunks bucked his hips upward. “What was that?” he demanded. Broly mouthed at Trunks’s neck as he thrust in again and Trunks wrapped a leg around Broly’s waist as ecstasy surged through him. His hand diverted from its attack on Broly’s shoulders to fist in Broly’s hair, needing to hold onto something in order to keep the fraying edges of his sanity together.

“Yeah,” Broly growled and drove himself relentlessly into Trunks, hitting that same spot again and again. Trunks cried out each time, one leg molded to Broly’s body, the other planted firmly on the ground to keep himself in that position that gave him so much pleasure. His cock rubbed against the hard, unforgiving plane of Broly’s stomach with each thrust of Broly’s hips, edging him closer and closer to an orgasm.

This was crazy, Trunks thought. Why? Why was he enjoying this? He didn’t want this.

Except that he did.

With a sharp cry, he orgasmed, spilling onto his chest. His body thrashed underneath Broly, riding out the searing pleasure burning through him. Broly growled, pleased, and sped up his thrusts, fucking into Trunks until they became a solid pressure against Trunks, too fast for his body to differentiate between them. 

“Oh, Kami,” Trunks croaked weakly. His limbs lost their strength and fell away, dropping limply to the ground as Broly continued to use him, treating his weakened body with no more consideration than an object for pleasure.

Something inside of Trunks liked that.

Stupid, fucked-up Saiyan instincts.

Broly roared when he came, arching upward as he slammed himself into Trunks for the final time. His cock pulsed inside of Trunks, emptying its load deep. Trunks moaned again as he felt a spark of energy pooling inside of him. Kami, that was fucked up.

He wasn't even going to try to analyze why he liked it. 

Broly rolled his hips, wallowing in the pleasure for a moment before finally pulling out. He dropped Trunks onto the ground and Trunks moaned weakly. 

Come was leaking out of him. Trunks knew it. He could feel it. 

He didn’t think that his ass was ever going to be the same. It felt as if it were gaping open, thoroughly plowed by a monster and bred. His limbs trembled as he attempted to move before he gave up and slumped into a boneless heap where Broly had left him.

Broly kissed him again, forceful and intrusive, and Trunks simply accepted it, too exhausted to try and fight. Fingers prodded at Trunks’s ass, pushing into him. Trunks inhaled as Broly grinned down at him. “Stay here, Princess,” Broly told him. “I’m going to go kill Kakarot.”

Wait, what? Trunks grabbed for Broly, but his fingers slipped on Broly’s clothes as Broly leaped into the air.

Trunks banged his head back against the ground. A building exploded in the distance and somewhere to the right, Trunks could hear his father yelling about how “goddamned cool” Broly was.

If they made it out of this alive, Trunks was going to kill his father. Or something. He’d think of something. Just as soon as his legs started working again.

Trunks could still feel Broly’s come in him, the ki slowly draining away, and he sighed. Also, he better not be pregnant.

Some base part of him was utterly thrilled with all of this. Stupid, fucked-up Saiyan instincts.


	2. Chapter 2

Broly roughly enters him, spreading him wide. Trunks screams and tries to squirm away but Broly’s hands hold him in place, dragging him back when he manages to claw a few inches forward. There is no escape. He is pinned, forced to be used by the larger, stronger Saiyan. Trunks bites his lip, trying to endure, working through the pain as Broly fucks him, powerful hips slamming into Trunks from behind, over and over and over again. Broly’s thick cock feels as if it is splitting him in half.

Broly collapses over top of Trunks, using his large size to full cover Trunks’s smaller form. His arms fold around Trunks, elbows planting into the ground on either side of Trunks’s head as his hands roam Trunks’s body. Large fingers drag down Trunks’s chest, cup his belly, then wrap around his soft cock, tugging harshly. “Stop!” Trunks shouts, bucking his hips backward to try and escape the mistreatment. His tail wraps around Broly’s hand to attempt to hold it still but it might as well be a blade of grass for the amount of difference that it makes.

“You like it,” Broly growls in his ear and Trunks sobs as his cock starts to respond to Broly’s rough handling, his body confusing pain for pleasure. Broly grabs his tail and rubs it against his cock, adding another layer to the knife edge of pain and pleasure, nearly overwhelming Trunks with its intensity.

“No! I don’t!” Trunks writhes, but it only pushes him further onto Broly’s cock. He drops his head to the ground, banging it against the rock. He can’t think, can only feel, stuck in a loop of pleasure and pain.

“Take it.” Broly doesn’t slow at all, keeping his punishing, inhumanly fast rhythm. Trunks’s breathing grows erratic as his body starts to hyperventilate. His body tries to accommodate for Broly’s large size, but there is simply no getting used to it. Each thrust in feels like a larger intrusion than before, and each retreat leaving Trunks empty inside.

Broly’s hand pumps Trunks’s cock, fingers tight enough to edge into painful, and Trunks screams at the conflicting sensations wracking his body. Agony transforms into ecstasy and slides back again until Trunks can’t tell the difference. He only knows Broly’s body—over him, in him, controlling him completely and utterly.

His orgasm brings no relief, tearing through his insides as Broly fucks him through it. Broly’s rough hand stays in place, fondling him until any pleasure found in the touch drains away, turning it into torture. “Stop,” Trunks sobs. “Please, stop. Please, stop!” He thrashes, jerking himself to the side and Broly finally finds an ounce of mercy. He releases Trunks’s cock and tail both, granting him a small measure of reprieve, and slides his hand back up to grip Trunks’s chest. It makes the fucking seem almost endurable.

Trunks pants into the dirt as Broly presses him downward, forcing Trunks to take more and more of his weight. Trunks’s vision starts to dim at the edges.

“Have Broly’s babies,” Broly growls and Trunks shudders. No, please, no, he thinks, but for some reason he is nodding his head and can’t seem to stop. His tail strokes along Broly’s side, encouraging the Saiyan to keep going—harder, faster, deeper.

Broly slams into him and comes, filling Trunks completely. Trunks moans in relief, his body slumping fully against the ground, his tail limp. Broly rocks him forward with short little thrusts as he finishes, then stills, holding himself in place inside of Trunks.

Trunks allows himself to merely breathe—to float and exist rather than to fight. He can still feel Broly’s thick cock inside of him, holding him open, but it is a distant thought. A fact that he cannot change and must simply accept.

Trunks groans when Broly finally pulls out. He feels used. Empty. Come drips down his thighs and he blushes in embarrassment when he realizes that he cannot stop it. Broly slides two fingers up Trunks’s leg, scooping up the come, and stuffs them into Trunks’s gaping hole. Plugging him.

“Fuck,” Trunks whispers. He can’t find it in himself to move, his muscles refusing to work the way that they should. A bone deep satisfaction is settling in him, refusing to leave no matter how much Trunks’s better sense thinks that it should. His body is happy at having been fucked so hard, used by a more powerful warrior. Bred.

Large arms wrap around Trunks and drag him onto his side as Broly pulls him into a cuddle on the hard ground. Trunks doesn’t protest, just stays where he is put, only bothering to flick the hair out of his eyes and to settle his tail on top of Brolly’s tree trunk of a thigh. Broly rumbles against him while stroking a hand down his stomach. “Soon,” Broly says and Trunks’s eyes flutter open wondering what that means. He glances down at where Broly is cupping his stomach.

...Is it larger than it was before? Trunks stares at his former abs, feeling as if he is watching himself watch this as his belly starts to grow. He places his own hands over Broly’s and pushes down, trying to fight the expansion, but it happens anyway. “W-what?”

Trunks sits bolt upright in bed, gasping. His fingers fly to his torso, running over the hard, flat lines of his stomach. For a moment, he doesn’t believe it, thinks that he is somehow processing wrong, but he stares for a solid minute and realizes that, no, it is the truth. His stomach is still as flat as it was when he went to sleep.

He whips his head to the side, to where Broly had been, but only finds empty sheets. The other Saiyan had never been there, left back on New Vegeta. Trunks pulls back the covers to feel for any lingering warmth and finds nothing.

Taking a deep breath, Trunks starts to come down from his red alert. Just a dream, he tells himself. It had all been just a dream.

Same as he had been having since they had left New Vegeta. He sighs and drops back onto the pillow, his hands rising to scrub at his face. 

His tail curls over his leg, lightly skimming the sheets as it twitches back and forth.

...Tail? Trunks hasn’t had a tail since he was a baby. 

Trunks tosses the covers off the bed and stares down at the very real, very attached tail that is still laying against his leg. He touches it gently and shivers as a tingle of pleasure races up his spine. “Is this really happening?” He twists on the bed to trace the line of the tail back to where it connects.

In the dream, he had had a tail—the first time that the dream had ever had that particular twist. “Saiyans are messed-up,” Trunks whispers to himself. He had just regrown a _limb_. 

He takes the tail in hand and rubs his palm over the end, licking his lips at the pleasurable ache, then lets it go. “I’ll deal with it in the morning.” He pulls the blankets back onto the bed and rolls onto his side.

Sleep comes, but Broly is waiting for him.


End file.
